


Come Alive

by Ninebubble



Series: EXO/Greek Myths [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Mentions of Death, Pygmalion, Pygmalion/Galatea - Freeform, artist, galatea - Freeform, kinda sad, sculptor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:46:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninebubble/pseuds/Ninebubble
Summary: Minseok dreams of a young man so beautiful that he can't rest until he's recreated him out of stone. But that's not enough.Baekhyun comes to in an unfamiliar place and meets a handsome artist with strong arms.





	Come Alive

 

***

 

 

 

Minseok stared into space, oblivious to the room around him. He knew it by heart. He knew it well enough to walk through at night, when not even a moonbeam shone through, out to his balcony where he could see the glitter of the sea far below, in the harbour and all around the lovely island. He knew the long, transparent curtains that billowed in the wind, when Zephyrus awoke in the west to pass through the high, arched windows of Minseok's home. The sketches that adorned the walls were intimately familiar to him, as he had drawn them in those moments when inspiration took him but he couldn't make it to his study. He knew the stone busts and figures that lined the walls, the work of his own hands, beautiful lines and soft movement wrapped into the delicate marble.

 

His eyes fell on his latest sculpture, standing in the middle of the room. It was born of a dream he had had months ago, in which a mesmerizing young man had come to him. They had met in the woods, much like those that lay on the northern half of the island, and yet different. They were foggy, as they often were on winter mornings, and yet luminous. He had walked through the wisps of sunlight floating from tree to tree, the sense of more to come pulling him forward. There was peace in these woods, but there was also promise and he needed to know what this promise was. He found it in the slender figure of a young man that was walking towards him. They stopped mere feet from each other, and Minseok stared. He had never seen anyone as beautiful as the young man. Everything about him seemed to have been carved by the sculptors of Olympus, those artisans so skilled that they were spared from Hades after their death and given the task of decorating the golden halls of the gods. The harmony of his face made him ache with longing, and when the young man had smiled he started crying.

 

"Who are you ?" He asked through his tears.

 

But the other's answer was lost to morning and the dawn, robbing Minseok of the name he wished most to know. That day had been dull and grey, in the wake of such a beautiful dream. There had been tedious work to attend to, and the only joy had been the rare moments of daydream in which he tried to recreate the lovely features, and the thought of meeting him again when night fell. There was little doubt in Minseok's mind that he would return to the woods and be able to speak to him again and receive an answer to his burning question, but his hopes were dashed. He dreamed no dreams that night, or the following. He woke everyday of that week feeling perfectly refreshed and deeply miserable.

 

Out of desperation he had decided to sculpt the beautiful man, and there he now stood in the middle of the study, a wonder of white marble from the island of Naxos, so real that he looked as though he might spring from his pedestal at any moment. It scared Minseok sometimes to see the perfection of this work. He had finished it so quickly, in mere weeks of sculpting instead of the usual months, even though he had entrusted no part of the project to his apprentices. The painters who usually finished his pieces in their vibrant colours were sent away too. Every detail was born from his own hands. Every detail was so perfect that he stood looking at them for hours on end, examining them one by one. The soft curve of the cheeks meeting the nose. The slight upturn of the mouth. Even the sparkle of the eyes that had been so fascinating in Minseok's dream was replicated in the delicate stone.

 

A sliver of moonlight shone into the room as the sculptor stared at his creation. It fell on the side of his face and, caught in the ripple of the curtains, made the illusion of a slightly rising and falling chest as though the statue were breathing. Minseok took a step closer, bound in the spell of night and beauty, enraptured by the still young man before him. He stretched his hand out to run his fingers over the folds of his tunic. The stone here was so fine that it seemed almost to be real cotton, a breath away from transparent. He had never managed this feat before. This alone would have been enough to make it his masterpiece, and yet it was the least remarkable thing about the statue. He looked up to the eyes. In the moonlight they held the depth of life and feeling he had seen in his dream. Mesmerized, he stepped up, so close that he could see the grain of stone on the perfect cheeks. Was it the night breeze, or was he feeling the young man's breath on his skin ?

 

Overcome with desire, he leaned forward and laid his lips on the stone lips he had brought to life. He felt their warmth and pliancy, and he kissed deeper into the bliss of the moment.

 

All of a sudden he jumped back. Had the statue kissed him ? It looked much as it always had, a perfectly wrought yet immobile object in the middle of his study, the image of a beautiful young man. He raised a trembling hand and brushed it over those lips. They still held the warmth of Minseok's kiss, and he could have sworn they were smiling.

 

The sight was overwhelming, and the sculptor ran from his study without looking back. He stopped only at the far side of the garden that surrounded his house, by a fountain trickling softly in the night air, his breathing ragged from the sudden burst of speed. He breathed in deeply. Out here in the moonlight and coolness, away from the statue, he felt much calmer already. Walking to the fountain, he dipped his hands in the cold water and splashed it over his face. He had been ridiculous. He had merely tricked himself into seeing things, in a study that held the heavy warmth of day. He hadn't been himself since the dream, either, and it was only a matter of time before he began hallucinating. Sculptors often went mad over their best pieces, fearing that they would never again be able to replicate their success. The statue must be taken away, that was the only cure. He had to give up this monument to his ego, and accept the thought of never seeing the young man again.

 

Yes, thought Minseok. In the morning, he would send the statue to the wealthy merchant who had one day visited and praised it so highly, offering up to a hundred talents for its purchase. It was more than he would have ever thought to ask, and there would be the added benefit of ridding himself of the root of his folly.

 

"Hubris," he muttered to himself. It had been vain pride to think he could be so great as to create life. The gods had sent down a punishment for it, and he was only lucky that it had been such a mild one.

 

This important decision made, he straightened and walked back to the house, carefully avoiding his study as he made his way to his bedroom, hoping for the first time in weeks that he wouldn't dream of the lovely youth.

 

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

 

Baekhyun stretched slowly. He felt very stiff, as though he had been asleep for a long time. Every movement was painful in a welcome way. He couldn't wait to get back to exercising, running through the fields to the north of the river. Maybe his brother might even let him practice with his discus today. As the room around him sharpened, he realized that it was completely unfamiliar to him. There were high, arched windows all along the southern wall, opened to the sea, framed by long curtains that floated softly in the breeze. The other walls were lined with hundreds of sketches, some faceless bodies and others bodiless faces, perfectly visible in the moonlight that flooded in through the windows. There were also sculpted busts here and there, and tables bearing many different tools for stone working.

Where was he ? And how had got here ? And had he been sleeping upright ?

He stepped down from the sort of pedestal he was standing on and looked around him once more. It was nighttime and the room was empty, but there were faint noises coming through the windows. The house must be in a city, and it couldn't be his own. He lived in the hills with his family, far from everything but their flock of sheep and the best grazing pastures. Wandering closer to the walls to study the drawings, he was surprised to find a wealth of sketches that showed his own face.

 

"What.." he whispered, raising a hand to touch the nearest. It was _him_ \- every line was his own. The drawing was so real that he shivered despite himself. Who had drawn these ? Who could possibly know him so well, in a place so far from his home ?

Next to his face was a drawing of his whole body, in a tunic he most certainly had never worn. He usually went for breeches, the attire everyone wore in Epirus, much more practical for running through the woods all day. With this thought he realized that his legs were unusually cold and looked down to see the tunic from the drawing on his body.

 

"What .." He repeated, louder. Staggering backwards, he bumped into a bust and sent it crashing to the floor. The sudden loud noise froze him to the spot. What if he woke the owner of the house ? What would happen to him then ? He would be taken for a thief, and no one would believe him if he told them he had simply woken up there, on that pedestal in the middle of the room. He might be put to death if he didn't come up with a plausible explanation.

He hadn't even begun to consider what the artist who had drawn him so much might have to say upon finding him there in the flesh, when he heard a soft voice calling.

 

"Hello ? Is anyone there ?"

 

"I am," answered Baekhyun instinctively, cursing to himself immediately. So much for discretion. But the voice didn't sound very menacing. If anything, it sounded just as scared as he felt.

 

"Who.. who are you ?" It called again. It seemed to be coming from other side of the door, as though its owner were afraid to come in to the room. This gave the young man a modicum of courage and he replied very softly, trying to put into his tone what little menace he represented :

 

"I'm Baekhyun. I don't know what's happening but I think I broke something, I'm sorry.."

 

At this, a figure appeared in the doorway. It was a man, about his size but of stockier build. Where Baekhyun was slender and soft, the man was sinewy muscle, thick chest and solid shoulders. His face was surprisingly youthful, the curve of his cat-like eyes accented by the moonlight. He looked smart and powerful, and Baekhyun felt himself shrink a little bit. When the man saw him standing there, his beautiful eyes widened.

 

"You.. you're alive ?"

 

"Of course I'm alive," replied the young man, surprised.

 

"But.. you weren't.. you were just stone.. And now you're moving ?" The man came closer, extending his hand to touch Baekhyun's hair. The softness under his fingers seemed only to cause further wonder, and he leaned down to examine the tunic, fingering along the edges.

 

"This was marble," he mumbled to himself. "This was marble and now it's cotton."

 

As he continued his examination, Baekhyun moved shyly back. The man's fingers running over his body were leaving him slightly breathless.

 

"I'm sorry," he said when he noticed the young man's discomfort. "I just can't quite believe this. When I left, you were just a statue on that pedestal."

 

"What are you talking about ?" Baekhyun's voice grew higher as a panic came upon him. Nothing was making sense. "I fell asleep watching my flock -"

As he said this, a memory rushed back to him. He hadn't fallen asleep watching his flock. The discus - he had stolen the discus and tried throwing it. He hadn't listened to his brother's warnings that the object was heavy and dangerous. He had scoffed at the story of the youth Hyacynthus, of whom Zephyrus had been jealous enough to cause his death by blowing a discus back at him. And yet, he remembered now his own frustration at losing the discus, when it had disappeared so far away.. and then his wonder when he had seen a speck growing in the distance. He remembered a blinding flash of pain, and then nothing.

 

"I'm... I'm dead ?" He whispered into the night, to the man before him who was watching him with caring, worried eyes. "I died ? Is that what happened ?"

 

"I don't know, Baekhyun," answered the other softly. "All I know is that I sculpted you from Naxos marble, and now you're alive in my study."

 

The young man sank down to the floor.

 

"I'm dead... I'm dead.. What about my mother ? What about my brothers ? And my father ?" As he said this, tears started to fall from his eyes and sobs to rack through his body. "My family.. I'm dead.."

 

The man kneeled next to him and wordlessly took Baekhyun into his arms. The strength of his limbs was comforting and he let himself go, sobbing into the tunic that was so similar to his, repeating the calls to his mother.

 

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

 

Minseok had held Baekhyun for a long time that night. The sobs had quieted slowly, and they took with them any energy the young man might have had, leaving him to fall unconscious in the strong arms. When Minseok noticed this, he gathered him up effortlessly and brought him to his bed, where he lay sleeping for a whole day. When he had woken up, he'd come to the sculptor quietly, and asked him to let him stay until he came to terms with his own death. Minseok had accepted gladly, as he'd been about to ask the young man to stay with him, and given him his own room. For days he did very little but walk out into the garden and touch the trees. Occasionally he would come up to him, in the early hours of the evening when Minseok sat on his porch, and ask shyly to hold his hand. He seemed to crave human contact in these moments, but otherwise he barely talked and ate even less. This worried the sculptor, and eventually he decided that something must be done. He had no way of taking the young man back to his home country, as there was war on land and any ship attempting to pass through would be sunk. But Baekhyun seemed to share a bond with trees, and although there were few of those in the garden, something might be possible there.

 

"Baekhyun," he spoke one day as they sat together in silence, watching the sun kissing the ocean in the harbour below. "Would you like to go to the forest ?"

 

The young man turned to look at him slowly, as though he was waking from a daze.

 

"A forest ?"

 

"There's one to the north of the island. It's a day's walk, but I think you need to be among trees. I'll take you there if you want."

 

The only answer was a nod, but that was enough for Minseok to begin preparations. They left early the next morning, just the two of them in comfortable walking sandals and breezy tunics, with hats to cover themselves in the fierce sunlight of midday. Baekhyun wordlessly took his hand and held it as they left the city and reached the hills, only letting go when the way narrowed, and always taking it again when they could walk side by side. Minseok's heart fluttered at each renewed touch.

He'd been in love with the young man from the first moment he had seen him, standing in the study with a bewildered air on his face. All of his fear had dissolved in that instant, in the initial rush of surprise and then in the absolute necessity of taking care of him. That had become his all-consuming motivation, and he'd given his apprentices a holiday so that he could devote himself to the care of his creation. But Baekhyun wasn't his creation, that much was clear. He'd been a very real person, with a real family and a tragic, meaningless death. His soul was foreign to Minseok, a lovely and precious thing that had come to inhabit the body sculpted from stone, the soul of a person who loved trees and smiled tenderly at the smallest of the birds hopping about the courtyard.

This the sculptor knew, although he had no idea how it had happened. He didn't really care. Whether through the will of the gods or some unknown force, the young man from his dreams had come alive in his study, and that was all that mattered. He squeezed the delicate hand that held his as they walked, and he felt a slight squeeze back from Baekhyun.

 

They reached the woods at nightfall, stopping to spend the night in an empty shepherd's hut within sight of the line of trees. The young man looked about the place and said, with tears in his eyes :

 

"This is like my family's house. It's a little smaller but - yes, there it is. We had a tiny window there too." He pointed to opening by the door and smiled sadly.

 

Minseok reached for his hand. He held it as they fell asleep on the rough earth of the hut. He was still holding it when they awoke in the early hours of the morning, before the dawn rose on the edge of the ocean.

 

"Do you need me ?" Asked the sculptor as he watched the young man gather his few belongings.

 

He didn't answer immediately, but there was a decided air on his face when he finally did. "No. I need to go alone."

 

"I thought so." He gave him the indications necessary to find the grove sacred to Artemis where he might pray and receive counsel from the goddess, and then watched him walk away towards the trees without turning back.

 

It was a long day as he waited for his return, wondering sometimes if he should rush after him, if Baekhyun might decide to put an end to this bewildering second life he had been given. He told himself over and over again that if he didn't reappear at nightfall, he'd go get help from the village they had passed on the way and venture in to the woods to find his body. If they found his body, Minseok would take it back to his home, lay it on a funeral pyre and immolate himself with his love. There was no meaning to his own life if Baekhyun relinquished his. Though he wasn't his creation, they had become tied to each other in a way that seemed to exist only for them. Minseok had wrought the body in which Baekhyun's soul had been saved from death.

Nothing could ever come near that bond, and if it dissolved there was no sense to Minseok's existence.

He spent the whole day making these plans, and as Helios in its course grew closer to the horizon, he accepted in his heart that it would be so. He would follow Baekhyun into death and they would know happiness in Hades, if that was their fate.

He closed his eyes and called to him the lovely face that he had worked on for so long, and often looked at in amazement since that night. He drew in his mind every line of his body and every spark of life about him.

A shadow fell on his face, interrupting his reverie. He opened his eyes slowly to find, standing above him with a smile on his lips, Baekhyun.

 

"Baekhyun ?"

 

"Minseok," he answered lightly. There was a lilt to his voice, and he looked happier than he had since his awakening.

 

The sculptor jumped up to face him, but he found that words failed him to ask the questions whirling through his brain. Baekhyun seemed to guess this and he laughed at the confusion evident on Minseok's features before saying simply :

 

"She showed me why I got a second chance."

 

"Really ? Why did you ?"

 

In lieu of an answer, Baekhyun pulled Minseok to him and kissed him. His lips were as soft and delicate as the rest of his being, a source of bliss like the artist had never known before. He was in a daze when the young man broke the kiss to say :

 

"I've come alive for you."

 

 

 

 **

 

 

 

Baekhyun smiled to himself as he walked through the garden and into the house. He'd been down at the market, watching the fishermen bring their catch in and listening to the sounds of the little town. In his previous life he had never seen the sea and it fascinated him. He could sit on the peer for hours watching the waves lap at the shore. They filled his heart to the brim so that sometimes he felt the need to yell, not in frustration but for the sheer delight of expressing himself.

Lately Minseok had been teaching him how to read, which he enjoyed immensely. He had devoured the Iliad and he was reading through the Odyssey. The flow and rhythm of both texts seemed to bring order to his thoughts, along with new words to better form them. It was an inner process much like the sea gently changing the shape of an island, he thought, and one that he had never imagined before.

Although it had been hard, every day since he had visited the shrine of Artemis had brought its own little delight. Passing through death made him aware of the smaller things, details he had never considered before, when he was too caught up in the whirl of uneventful daily life and duties. Everything held more meaning, and every moment that he spent with Minseok was a cause for joy.

He paused in the doorway from the garden to the study, holding the slender branch of an olive tree in his long fingers, to watch the sculptor work. He was completely focused on the piece in front of him, oblivious to the world around and even to Baekhyun as he made slight alterations here and there. As he circled the statue to better see its profile, he saw the young man looking at him. He smiled.

 

"Hi, Baek."

 

"Hi, Min," he answered lightly.

 

The sculptor lay down his tools and crossed over quickly to his love, taking him delicately into his strong arms. Baekhyun raised a hand to run through his softly waving black hair before placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

 

"How are you feeling ?" Asked the artist when they separated.

 

"Wonderful."

 

"And how was the sea ?" He smiled.

 

"It was lovely ! The light was hitting the waves just right, making them a little transparent. It was very inspiring."

 

Minseok laughed. "Inspiring ?"

 

"It gave me some words."

 

"What words ?"

 

There was a short silence as Baekhyun looked into the distance, gathering his thoughts. The strength of the arms that circled his waist and the tenderness of the eyes watching him so closely seemed to give him courage, and in a softer tone he spoke the words he had received from the waves. Minseok's eyes were shining when he was done, but he said only one thing.

 

"I'm lucky you exist, Baekhyun."

 

 

 

 

 ***

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The story of Pygmalion and Galatea varies in how it's told. Sometimes it's really romantic and sometimes it's a little icky as far as consent and slut-shaming goes. 
> 
> I'm a huge romantic and a raging feminist so uh, here we are. 
> 
> This was also partly inspired by the song Mysteries of Love, by Sufjan Stevens, which I highly recommend checking out. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you liked it ! :)


End file.
